The silence stretched between us like a live wire.
Mason stood frozen in the middle of my room, the door closed behind him, candlelight flickering across the hard lines of his jaw. I could feel the heat radiating from his body—close but not touching.
“I’m serious,” I whispered, my fingers still hooked in the waistband of my pants—his pants—well, my pants, technically.
He looked down at my hand, then back at my face. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them, like something inside him had finally snapped free.
“You want me to earn them?” he said slowly, voice rough.
I nodded. “Take them off. Let me watch.”
His jaw flexed, and then—without a word—he reached for the waistband and began to lower them.
But not fast.
Painfully slow. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he pushed them ov
